


the tattoo artist and florist au i've always wanted

by sardonic (caveat)



Category: The Mara Dyer Series - Michelle Hodkin
Genre: AU, F/M, Florist Noah, I Don't Even Know, Tattoo Artist Mara, Tattoo Artist and Florist! AU, honestly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-08
Updated: 2016-06-28
Packaged: 2018-03-29 14:48:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3900250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caveat/pseuds/sardonic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mara Dyer as the tattoo artist and Noah Shaw as the florist.</p><p>Inspired by this post on tumblr:<br/>"I passed a flower shop next to a tattoo shop and at first I laughed because I thought it was ironic and then I freaked because IMAGINE YOUR OTP IN A FLORIST/TATTOO ARTIST AU. Then imagine whoever would obviously be which one and switch them."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_ **Mara** _

When my phone vibrates in the back pocket of my jeans, my hands jerk. The girl in front of me stares with a questioning look.

 _Daniel_ , my phone display says. Daniel?

“Sorry,” I say to her, giving a please-wait-a-sec gesture. “I have to take this. Daniel?”

My older brother sighs from the other end of the line. “Mara, thank God.”

“What’s up, Daniel?” I say. “It better be something important because I am doing someone right now.”

I feel him grin. “Yeah? How’s it going, sis?”

I glare. “I’m going to hang up.”

“No, no, no,” Daniel says quickly. “I just wanted to ask you if you could drop by the florist next door, there’s a florist, right? It’s Sophie’s birthday and I’d ordered some flowers.”

“Why don’t you get them yourself,” I say. “I’m busy,”

Daniel sighs. “I can’t make it. I’d planned to, honest to God, Mara. And it’s not like you have anything better to do. Please.”

“You called me to ask me to pick up flowers, Daniel?” I say disbelievingly. “Really? You realize you have two siblings and one of them is working,” I hiss, ”And the other is in college. And was that last part meant to insult me?”

“Please?” He says, then sighs.

“Sorry I called then. Have a nice day.”

Great. Guilt-tripping. “Fine. I’ll get you your fucking flowers, Daniel. You owe me one, Daniel.”

“Language, Mara,” Daniel says, a smile in his voice. “And thanks a lot. Really.”

Then he hangs up.

The girl looks at me. This time, her expression is amused and yet impatient.

“Really sorry,” I say. “My brother.”

She gives me a sympathetic look that almost looks like, _aren’t they all?_

* * *

 

_**Noah** _

As I’m talking to Katie, a girl enters, the bell’s tinkle signaling her entrance.

I recognize her. She’s the tattoo artist from next door. She looks the part, with her loose black tank and tight black jeans and leather boots. Her tattoos climb up her arm, spreading to her back. I catch a glimpse of them when her shirt rises up just the slightest bit as she leans against the counter to talk to Heather. _Beautiful_.

“Hi,” she says. There’s a slight sarcastic edge to her voice that makes me smile. “My brother ordered flowers, apparently, and sadly, he can’t come here to get them. I’m his sister. His name’s Daniel. Daniel Dyer. He said he sent you a message.”

Heather smiles. “Right, let me check for a second.”

Heather scrolls through the computer as the girl looks around the shop. I don’t believe she’s ever been in here before. She makes a stark contrast, all black surrounded by colorful flowers.

“Sorry,” Heather says. “I didn’t quite catch your name.”

“Mara.” Mara. Bitter in Hebrew. I’d read that from the Bible, on the one occasion I’d read it.

“Sage, baby’s breath, celandine, cosmos, carnation,” Heather reads out. She whistles. “Your brother proposing, Mara?”

At this, Mara cracks a grin and shakes her head. “No. Just a big nerd.”

Heather returns the grin and with a quick smile, she says, “I’ll go get that thing for ya. I’ll have to warn you, it’s a heck of a bouquet.”

Then she disappears to the back room.

Katie gives me a questioning look then scrunches up her nose, tossing her hair.

“ _Noah_ ,” she says disapprovingly. She already knows what I’m thinking. Hell. Even _I_ don’t know I’m thinking. I raise an eyebrow at her.

“What?”

She shakes her head. “Nothing.”

I’m considering striking a conversation with her when Heather returns with the bouquet in hand. What she’d said is true. It is a heck of a bouquet. Huge is one thing, this one is a fucking portable greenhouse.

“You’re going to carry that home?” I say.

She looks at me, glares at me more like, as if saying, _it’s really none of your business_. “Yes.”

I smile. “Okay. Be careful. Wouldn’t want to ruin that thing before you get home, would you? ”

She mutters something that sounds suspiciously like _asscrown_ and gives me a poisonous look before turning away to smile at Heather sweetly.

"Thank you," Mara says. "The flowers are beautiful."

The bell jingles as the door closes.

I smile to myself and Heather shakes her head.

“ _Noah_.”

I raise an eyebrow. “It seems,” I say, “that’s all people can say to me today. _Noah_.”

Heather sighs.

But all the while, I'm thinking, _I have to get to know her_.


	2. Chapter 2

Mara

My phone rings again as I lock up the parlour. 

I put it to my ear without checking, tucking it between my ear and shoulder to leave my hands free to work.

‘Did you get the flowers?’ Daniel immediately says.  
I snort. ‘Don’t I at least get a ‘Hey my best and only sister, whom I love very dearly, I am extremely grateful to have you in my life and apologise for this annoying interruption.’ ?’  
Daniel snorts back.  
‘Not even grateful sobbing? No prayer of thanks or even some offerings?’ I say, locking the last padlock and transferring the phone to my finally free hands. ‘Hm. Maybe I’ll tell Sophie.’  
‘Mara, you’re a lifesaver,’ he says. ‘How does it look?’  
I glance at the bouquet, currently resting on top of my messenger bag on the ground. It’s ginormous, but pretty. ‘It looks bigger than Sophie.’  
Daniel heaves a relieved sigh, as if he’d been holding his breath all day. ‘But not hideous?’  
‘Hm. I can’t really tell.’  
‘I’ll pick them up in half an hour,’ Daniel says, ignoring my words. ‘Sophie and I are having dinner. Thanks again, sis.'  
I pick up the bouquet, careful not to damage the flowers, and my bag. ‘Nice. I’ll be waiting.’  
He hangs up.

I walk all the way home, which isn’t that far away from the parlour. The streetlights are all on, and only half of the house lights are on. It’s nice and quiet. The streets are empty with far-off sounds of cars and buses. Maybe it would seem creepy to some, but I like it. Everything looks like a piece of art.

My mind flashes to the boy in the florist. The asscrown. He had also looked like a piece of art. Rumpled chestnut hair like he’d just gotten out of bed and eyes the color of the clouds before it rained, even the way he had leaned with his elbows on the counter. My hand itches for a pencil just thinking of him. 

When I arrive home, I toss the keys on table, put the bouquet on the bar counter, and head over to the sofa. The coffee table is messy, covered with papers filled with sketches, open sketchbooks, and stationary. Drawing is best at night, and I can never seem to be able to stop until I find fall asleep then and there.

I shuffle through my iPod, plugging it into the speaker. Death Cab For Cutie plays in the background as I flip through a sketchpad, pencil in hand. The last drawing is unfinished, a still life from last night when I’d gotten bored. I skip a few pages before starting.

It’s not until the doorbell rings that I actually realize what I’m drawing. It’s the boy from the florist. Or his eyes, anyway. They stare out from the white page, intense and beautiful. Like him.

The bell rings again, and I close the sketchbook, tucking the pencil inside, before rushing to the door. Daniel stands in the threshold, tux freshly pressed and hair neatly combed.

‘Dapper,’ I say. He smiles before pushing past me.  
‘Where is it?’ he asks, before catching sight of the bouquet.   
I lean against the doorway. ‘Wish Sophie a happy birthday for me.’  
He flashes a grin. ‘Thanks.’  
‘What did you get her?’ I ask. It’s either too big to carry or small enough to tuck inside a pocket. Interesting.  
‘A necklace,’ he replies, turning to leave. ‘With a violin charm.’  
‘Nice.’  
When he’s almost out the door, he stops and turns. ‘I almost forgot. Sophie asked me to ask you if you want to come to this party.’  
‘What party?’  
He shrugs. ‘In a club, apparently. It’s a costume-only.’  
‘No thanks,’ I say. ‘Not interested.’  
‘You have no choice in the matter,’ Daniel says. ‘I wasn’t asking your opinion. Just a forewarning, because you’re going.’  
I cross my arms and frown. ‘I never said I was.’  
‘When was the last time you went out and had fun?’ he says.  
‘I’m having fun without going out,’ I say. ‘Drawing and sketching.’   
‘With other people,’ he says. ‘Friends. You can make friends at a party, Mara. You seem to have a lack of them these days.’  
I stiffen. ‘That’s a dick thing to say,’ I say in a low voice.   
Daniel holds up his hand, palms open. ‘You’re right. It is. But, you can’t spend your time between here and the parlour for the rest of your life.'  
‘I don’t. I went to the florist yesterday,’ I point out.  
‘You know what I mean,’ he says.   
‘I don’t want or need friends right now, Daniel,’ I say. ‘I’m fine.’  
‘Just give it a shot, Mara,’ he says. ‘If you don’t like it, you can leave. But it’ll be fun, I promise.’

Fun. I doubt it. The last party I’d went to was a few years ago, with my old friends as freshmen. That had ended disastrously, and I only remember flashes of it. Now, they’re gone. Not dead, just gone. Out of the picture.

But Daniel means well. I know that. And maybe, I have been locking myself in the studio for the better part of my spare time. I could make a few friends now that Rachel, Claire, and Jude are wherever they are. If I didn’t like anyone, I could sit at the bar and have a few drinks until I could leave. It would make an interesting character observation, no matter how everything would turn out.

‘Fine,’ I say. ‘But if I don’t have fun, it’s on you.’  
Daniel grins, ruffling my hair. ‘That’s my little sister,’ he says, which makes me glare. ‘I’ll see you there.’  
Then before I can say anything else, he’s out the door, jogging out of sight. I slam the door, just for emphasis.


End file.
